Rivers of Hell (Shadows of the Immortals Book 3)

by Marina Finlayson

  “Hurry!” Syl shouted, and someone shouted back, a deep rumble of a voice that sounded like it came from a giant. My head was about to burst. The pressure was too much. Little by little, something was tearing free, but I couldn’t find it in me to care anymore. The sweet siren song of unconsciousness beckoned, and I sank gratefully toward it. Something heavy and wet slapped across my face, and I had the sense of people rushing around, but it all felt like it was happening somewhere far away.

  A golden light pierced the fog surrounding me, silencing the noise in my head. All at once, the pressure eased, as if it were a bubble that someone had popped. I opened my eyes in time to cop a faceful of tongue as Cerberus licked me again.

  “Get off!” I flailed at him with both arms, but for some reason, I was flat on my back, and it seemed to take an enormous effort to move. One head yipped in excitement, while another bent down to administer another enthusiastic licking before someone shooed him away.

  Was that Apollo? I shaded my eyes with one hand. The golden light was coming from him, bursting forth as if he really were the sun. It hurt just as much to look at him as it had to look at the dragon.

  The dragon! Memory came rushing back, and I fought my way into a sitting position, looking wildly around. Where was the dragon? What was going on?

  Syl appeared, crouching down beside me. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but a smile of pure joy lit her features as she grabbed me in a fierce hug.

  “Syl! You’re free!” The collar was gone. I squinted over her shoulder at Apollo. His neck was blessedly bare, too. “You did it.”

  Apollo smiled down at me. “No. You did it. You have my eternal gratitude.”

  My eyes were watering in the glare coming off him. “You’re welcome—but do you think you could turn down the special effects?”

  “Sorry.” He had the grace to look abashed. The light emanating from him dimmed as he and Syl helped me to my feet. “You gave us a bad moment there.”

  “I thought you’d died.” Syl hovered anxiously as I wobbled. “You started laughing and raving, and the next minute you went limp and the dragon was coming for us like a steam train.”

  “Something seemed to slow it down for a few moments,” Apollo said. “Just as well, or it would have been on us before Brontes could remove the collars. We were lucky.”

  Very lucky. And I was lucky that Apollo hadn’t seemed to figure out what—or rather, who—had slowed the dragon for those vital seconds. He obviously hadn’t heard me tell Syl I was trying to hold the dragon.

  “Sorry I kind of blacked out on you there.”

  “Don’t apologise,” said Apollo. “You did more than any mortal I’ve ever known could have. You have the heart of a lion.”

  Wow. This was so weird. Apollo was actually being nice to me.

  Behind the cyclops towered the dragon, its blazing eyes fixed on Apollo, head bent in submission. Flame hissed and crackled across its skin in a beautiful light show that I could finally appreciate now that I wasn’t responsible for stopping it from killing us all.

  “Go now, Phlegethon,” Apollo said. His voice had that deep thrum underlying it again, that I’d first noticed during his brief moment of freedom in Mrs Emery’s cellar. It resonated through my body; I could almost taste the power. “You have done your duty, and answered the call of the alarm. Go back to your river and sleep until you are needed once more.”

  The dragon inclined its mighty head in a graceful bow, then turned away. We watched in silence as it re-entered the flaming river, sinking down, becoming one with the molten lava until it disappeared. I couldn’t have said whether it had sunk beneath the surface or dissolved and become part of the river. Either way, I was glad to see the last of it. Now we had only the harpies to deal with.

  Not that they seemed keen to approach our little group, even without the dragon to contend with. Two of the braver ones had alighted at the cave mouth, and watched us warily. The rest still circled high above the volcano’s peak, unwilling to come any closer to the newly resurgent god. Their raucous voices had fallen silent.

  Brontes stood behind us, his face like thunder. The two collars dangled from one enormous fist, and in the other hand was a silvery key that looked tiny enough to open a mouse’s treasure box compared to the hand that held it. His fists were clenched so tight the key seemed in imminent danger of being snapped.

  “You’re Apollo,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I didn’t recognise you in time, without your glamour, or I would have left you to rot.” He turned his blazing gaze on me. “You lied to me, Figment.”

  “I didn’t. I said my friends needed help.” Calling Apollo a friend was a bit of a stretch, but it wasn’t precisely a lie. “I just didn’t give you their names.”

  “Then you tricked me.”

  “I saved you. I broke you out of Tartarus. Maybe you had to help someone you don’t like in return, but it seems a fair trade to me.”

  “You made me help the killer of my brother’s sons, and that seems fair to you, does it? He’s a bigger monster than anything locked inside Tartarus.”

  Holy shit. Now his bitterness made sense. Apollo had killed his nephews? I stared at the god in shock. He hadn’t mentioned that little fact when he’d been trying to talk me out of coming here.

  Apollo made no attempt to deny the accusation, which only confirmed his guilt as far as I was concerned. To think I’d almost started to warm to him. “The question is what to do with you now. I cannot let you leave the underworld.”

  The giant drew himself up to his full height. “Then you mean to kill me? The figment said I could join Lord Hephaistos in Elysium if I helped her. Was that a lie?”

  “It most certainly was not,” I said hotly. “And my name is Lexi.”

  Brontes ignored me, his challenging gaze resting on Apollo’s face. I had a feeling he knew perfectly well what my name was anyway. The figment? Syl mouthed at me, and I shrugged. I’d explain later, once the showdown was over. If Apollo didn’t stop glaring at the cyclops like that, I’d put that damn collar back on him myself.

  “That seems acceptable,” Apollo said at last. “Give me the collars and the key. Elysium isn’t far from here. Do you know the way?”

  “I do.” The cyclops threw the collars and their precious key onto the ground at Apollo’s feet, though the look on his face said he’d have thrown them into the Phlegethon if he dared defy the god. “But what’s to stop those devils up there from trying to haul me back into the Pit once you’re gone?” He nodded at the two harpies glaring at us from their posts outside the opening to Tartarus.

  “I will order them to leave you be.”

  Yeah, right. As if the harpies would take any notice once he wasn’t there to enforce his orders. They were already staring at Brontes as if he were a giant chew toy and they couldn’t wait to start playing tug-of-war. I dug into my backpack.

  “I have a better idea.” I held the Baseball Cap of Supreme Sneakiness out to Brontes.

  Looking doubtful, he took it in his massive hand. “What am I meant to do with this?”

  “It’s a hat. You put it on your head.”

  “It’s too small.” Nevertheless, he lifted it to his head. The cap grew larger as it approached his head, transforming itself to the required size. By the time he settled it on his head, it was the perfect fit, and they both disappeared.

  “Mother of Chaos! What magic is this?” He reappeared, cap in hand, and examined it with a keen interest, his quarrel with Apollo momentarily forgotten.

  “It’s the Helm of Darkness. I believe you may have had a hand in its original creation.”

  “Indeed I did.” He put it back on, took it off, and put it back on again, like a child with a new toy. “Though it has changed marvellously since then.”

  “Hades likes to keep up with the times,” I said. “You should be able to evade the harpies with that. Ask Hephaistos to keep it safe once you reach him. Oh, and tell him I said hi.”

  “I will.” He gla
red once more at Apollo, then he jammed the Helm on his head and winked out of existence, though his heavy tread could be heard receding into the distance.

  I heaved a great sigh of relief, and Syl turned to me anxiously. “Are you sure you’re all right? You seem kind of wobbly.”

  “About that …” I flicked a sideways glance at Apollo. “I got speared by a ghost centaur on the way to find Hephaistos. He said I needed a fireshaping god to burn the rest of the poison out of me.” Not before time, either. The numbness had spread all the way back up my leg again, and I was heartily sick of stumbling and tripping everywhere I went.

  “Allow me,” Apollo said, taking my hand. He said nothing more, but a soothing warmth began to flow from our joined hands up my arm, spreading through my whole body. Jake’s delivery method had been more fun, but I was glad I didn’t have to swap saliva with the sun god.

  It was different to when Jake had done it in other ways, too. Jake’s fire had burned—not unpleasantly, but like the burn of a good whiskey sliding down your throat. Apollo’s fire felt like lying out in the sun on a warm day. I could have closed my eyes and nodded off as the feeling of well-being filled me. I wiggled my toes in satisfaction. It was the first time I’d been able to feel them all properly in forever.

  Apollo withdrew his hand from mine. “Better?” he asked.

  I balanced on my tiptoes and took a few steps, then bent into a deep squat. My legs felt fine—better than fine; they felt great, as if I’d had a good night’s sleep or a relaxing massage. I guess there was a reason gods outgunned shapers. I felt as good as new.

  “Much better.” I suppose I should have thanked him, but I wasn’t feeling too charitable towards him at the moment, still rocked by the cyclops’s revelation. I mean, I knew gods had the power of life and death over everyone, so, in theory, it was no surprise that he’d killed a few people in his time. But I couldn’t help feeling betrayed. I’d liked the giant cyclops, and it had stung to see him look at me with such disappointment.

  “What now?” Syl asked. “Do we have to go back to the palace?”

  “No need,” Apollo said. “There’s a gate here that we can use, and I can make sure it opens into Crosston for us.”

  Another benefit of having a god on your team. I guess I had to take the good with the bad. My personal dislike of Apollo meant nothing, as long as he helped me save Jake. The little knot of anxiety in my stomach loosened somewhat. Jake’s time was still limited, but we were getting closer. “And once we’re there, you can free Jake from wherever the Ruby Adept’s got him locked up, right?”

  “Of course. Wait here. I’ll release Charon from his bondage before we leave.” He strode up the gangway and disappeared inside the ferry.

  I put the collars and their key into my backpack, keeping a wary eye on the harpies outside the entrance to Tartarus while he was gone.

  One of them rattled her metal-tipped wings at me. “Lord Hades will punish you when he hears of this, mortal.”

  “Good luck finding him,” I muttered.

  Before she could work up the courage to move from threats to action, Apollo returned.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Let’s go kick some fireshaper butt.”

  18

  We arrived at the Gate of Dusk much more quickly, it seemed, than when Jake and I had been running from the harpies.

  “Stay here, Cerberus,” Apollo said.

  Cerberus whined and nudged me with one of his heads, nearly knocking me right through the gate. I stroked a velvety ear soothingly. “He was pretty handy against the shadow shapers. Can’t we take him?”

  “He was wonderful,” Apollo agreed, reaching up to pat another head approvingly. “But I’m back at full strength, and I won’t need any help to discipline a few fireshapers. Best if he stays here. The gods aren’t a secret, but we like our anonymity. There’s no point parading a hellhound around unnecessarily.”

  He was kind of hard to miss. I stood on tiptoes and reached up to get my arms around one of his necks. “We’ll be back before you know it, buddy.”

  I was rewarded with one of those enthusiastic licks. I was going to need a long, hot shower when this was all over.

  Apollo held out his hands, one to me and one to Syl, and together we stepped through the gate. This time, there was none of that disorienting sensation we’d experienced on the way to Hephaistos’s forge. Clearly, there were advantages to travelling with a god. The world simply flickered as we passed under the arch, and when I set my foot down, it touched a smooth, tiled floor.

  The floor belonged to a great, vaulted space, cool and dim. Above us, a dome soared. In the centre of the enormous room, directly beneath the dome, a fire burned brightly in a circular pit. Radiating out from the central fire were the rays of a golden sun, inlaid into the tiled floor.

  “Where are we?” breathed Syl.

  Apollo let go our hands and smoothed his shirt a little self-consciously. “Welcome to my temple in Crosston.”

  Syl’s eyes widened, and she looked around with renewed interest. “This is the Great Temple of Apollo? Cool! I’ve never been here before.”

  “Me neither,” Apollo said, glancing around with a critical eye. “It seems adequate. Could do with a little more light.”

  It was pretty dark for the temple of the sun god, but the ring of windows that circled the bottom of the great dome above us showed a night sky. It would be brighter in the day time. Obviously, no expense had been spared. An enormous gold statue of Apollo stood against the wall, almost as large as the one in the Plaza of the Sun, though this one had no horses and chariot. Here, Apollo was depicted as the music lover, golden head bent over his harp strings. It must have cost a fortune.

  “Really? You’ve never been here?” Syl asked. “But the temple has been here for nearly three hundred years.”

  Apollo shrugged. “Just because a god can appear in any of his temples doesn’t mean he will. I have better things to do with my life than pop up like a genie every time some mortal wants a question answered or a boon granted.”

  Well, there were no mortals here now except us. Presumably, Apollo’s priests and other devotees were at home in bed.

  “Let’s go,” Apollo said. “The Ruby Palace is just down the road.”

  He led us through an archway into a smaller foyer. The door that opened to the outside world was still twice the height of a man, but he pulled it open with ease.

  “Don’t they lock this at night?” I asked.

  Apollo shot me a sidelong glance. “Why do you ask? Professional curiosity? What is there to steal in my temple? It would take fifty men to get that statue out, and they’re welcome to my holy fire.”

  We stepped out onto the pavement and I knew where we were straight away. He was right; the Ruby Palace bulked on the other side of the street just a little further down. Two men in gym clothes jogged past it. It wasn’t quite as dark as the glimpse of sky from inside had made it appear—it looked like dawn was approaching. Compared to the misty gloom of the underworld, the streetlights made it feel almost as bright as day. Apollo pulled the massive door gently closed behind us.

  “Maybe so,” I said, “but vandals could get in and spray paint ‘Apollo sucks’ all over the walls.”

  His mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. “And if they did, they might receive a personal visit from me. I doubt they’d enjoy the experience.”

  “How are we going to do this?” I asked as we headed down the street to the palace. Already, I was reviewing everything I knew about the interior layout, the patterns of the guards’ movements, and the placement of every security camera.

  “The easy way, of course,” he said.

  Okaaay. This should be good.

  I reached out with my inner sight, checking for allies within the building. A family of mice scampered around the ground floor, keeping mainly to the kitchen and eating areas. Cockroaches scuttled through the dark places—there were always cockroaches—and the odd spider hid in
a corner. I also found the Ruby Adept’s cats ensconced in his private suite, but since his door was shut and they couldn’t get out, they were no use to me. I didn’t imagine Jake would be locked up in the Ruby Adept’s bedroom. I sent my new troops scurrying through the building in search of my favourite fireshaper.

  The gates were made of heavy wrought iron and barred for the night. Just inside them stood a small gatehouse. The lone guard on duty there regarded us with only mild curiosity as we stopped outside the gates.

  His curiosity changed to alarm when Apollo laid a hand on each gate and tore them open.

  “Tell your masters their god is here for an accounting,” he said.

  “Like hell I will. No admittance after hours.” The guard hurled a weak fireball as he came out of the gatehouse at a run, but Apollo didn’t even blink. He brushed aside the man’s pitiful flame with a blast of his own that left only a blackened corpse in its wake.

  “Shit.” Syl stared at the charred body in horror. “Did you have to kill him? He was only doing his job.”

  “Then he should have chosen a different employer,” Apollo said.

  “But …”

  “Come on, Syl.” I grabbed her arm and towed her along, following Apollo. I didn’t want to get left behind—if he was going to stir up a fire storm, the safest place to be was right behind him, where he could protect us. A siren started wailing somewhere as we strode up the driveway towards the Palace.

  “Is he going to kill everybody?” Syl’s face was pale. Apollo had probably seemed so meek and gentle when he wore the collar, when he played the harp for her and comforted her. She was seeing a different side to him now, and I couldn’t help a tiny feeling of satisfaction. This should kill off any hint of romance that might have been blossoming between them. I guess that made me a bad friend, but I had never liked Apollo as much as she obviously had, and I thought she deserved better.